


Waiting in The Dark

by mothergoose



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothergoose/pseuds/mothergoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil feels lonely but resolves to be strong for Carlos. Set after Capital Campaign(Episode 50). Companion piece to "Searching in The Sun".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting in The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like Cecil isn't breaking down into tears at every stop, but rather he's struggling to hold together what's left of his life with Carlos, while Carlos is away. Just a different take on what everybody else is doin'.

The door shut with a dull 'thump' as Cecil made his way into the tiny house. Resting the back of his head against the door, he made an exhausted sigh, the grocery bags and his satchel feeling heavy in his arms. Still, he wasn't going to stop working. Or rather he didn't **want** to stop working. Because it was nights like these that made Cecil a little happy that StrexCorp had remodeled and destroyed so much of Night Vale. 

There was so much to do in the aftermath of the revolution. His station and studio needed to be gutted(quite literally) and the walls repainted from that garish yellow and orange. Station Management needed to be appeased.The ants that controlled the vending machine needed old folk music to be sung. And the radio stations sign needed to be replaced from "Desert Bluffs Greater Metropolitan Area". Not to mention the other buildings that and stores that were damaged in the fighting. 

And even after working all day at the station, whether it be from the actual broadcast of fixing the place, Cecil still had to take care of his apartment. Once StrexCorp had finally left, Cecil deemed it safe enough to return to the tiny ranch style house. After all, the station's break room couch was comfortable for only so long. But instead of the home that Cecil and Carlos had worked together to make, a huge mess awaited the tired host. Pictures frames were broken beyond repair. Someone had placed a mirror, uncovered, in the bathroom. The sofa's stuffing was spilling out. Carlos' research papers were strewn apart, in half burned piles. The worst was the bedroom. Their bed was stripped of all the bedsheets, leaving just the ripped mattress. Carlos' lab coats were in a pile, oozing some green and vile smelling liquid. Cecil's own clothes were adorned with what looked to be pigs feet. But what made him sick was the spraypaint above the headboard that screamed, "Believe in a Smiling God" in bright, bright yellow. Their bedroom was a sanctuary, a place of happiness and love, and StrexCorp had seen it fit to desecrate it. And yet despite all this, Cecil was happy that there was so much to do because he could work and work until he was exhausted enough to fall onto his destroyed bed or sofa and just pass out. 

Because if he didn't pass out right away, he spent the night worrying about Carlos. 

As he moved to put his groceries away, Cecil ruminated on his day. Today was particularly bad for reasons Cecil had yet to discover. Everything just seemed to remind him of Carlos, regardless of how hard he worked to get it out of his mind. Carlos had told him dozens of times, he was a scientist and scientists were fine. Usually. But throughout the day, Cecil would find himself thinking about some funny little fact Carlos had told him or he would have the sensation of Carlos tracing his tattoos, and every time something like that happened Cecil would find that his lips were trembling and tears were prickling at his eyes. Even now, as he put away the peppermint coffee creamer, Cecil realized he didn't actually like it. He'd bought it because Carlos liked it and they were out. He took a deep breath, fingers shaking, and stepped away from the fridge to lean on the counter.Biting his lip, he steeled himself and mentally berated, "Stupid, stupid Cecil! Carlos is in some dangerous plane, working hard without a bed or, or anything! And you're getting upset over nothing! You don't deserve to get upset, you have your town and your friends! The comforts of home!" But even as Cecil examined his house, there were very little comforts. It was half bare, devoid of curtains, a new sofa, or even most dishes. Cecil had to throw out so much and it felt wrong to pick out new things without Carlos. The scientist always teased him about his flare for bright and wild colors and even if Cecil knew did want to get a new corduroy couch, this was _their_ house, with _their_ furniture. How could Cecil furnish a home for two when he was only one? 

How could Cecil even do this alone? He missed Carlos something terrible and he knew Carlos felt the same. Just last week, Carlos had called him crying in the middle of the night, scared and upset. How could Cecil dump his own fears and woes upon his distraught boyfriend? Cecil had to be the Rock in this relationship now, the fixed point, the constant variable, Carlos would call it. And so it was that Cecil took another deep breath and rubbed his face. "You can do this", he reiterated for what had to be the 17th time that day. "You have to be a rock." So he pushed his fears aside and got to work.


End file.
